Wrong Side Wrong Track
by Phoenix of Faith
Summary: Starlight Express: CB, Greaseball and Electra got away with sabotaging the Uphill Final for Rusty, but what if the Marshals had found out that CB was to blame?
1. Wide Smile High Style

Chapter 1 — Wide Smile, High Style

"Hey, wait!"

Greaseball, Electra and CB whirled around to find that Pearl had been listening to their conversation.

"You mean...you mean CB's the reason Rusty went so slow?" she repeated slowly.

Greaseball laughed. "Of course he was!" he chuckled nastily. "What did you expect?" Electra laughed too, and CB flashed a mocking salute to Pearl, who stared in disbelief.

"I'll go tell the Marshall—" she began, but Greaseball grabbed her arm, suddenly looking serious.

"You're in this as well," he warned her. "You raced, too. They'll only suspend you if you ever tell."

Pearl stared at him for a moment, as though challenging his seriousness, then tore her arm from his grip and raced away from them.

Electra sniggered again. "C'mon, Greaseball, CB. Let's get out of here. We've got more races to win."

Greaseball started to follow, but CB had spotted Rusty not far away. His face split into a wicked grin at the sight of the defeated little steam train sitting alone. He wheeled over to him, circling him like a predator.

"Too bad, Rusty," he said, his voice dripping with patronising sympathy. "I guess you just had a real bad run, right?" He gave a cruel laugh as Rusty hung his head.

"Get lost, CB," he mumbled.

"Not so confident now, are you?" CB said, circling him again. Rusty looked back up defiantly.

"I said, get lost," he spat. "I know the truth, and sooner or later the Marshals will as well."

"Good luck with that," CB said enthusiastically. "If it's okay by you, though, I won't hold my breath."

"Get," Rusty growled, "lost."

CB chortled, and made another wide circle around the steam engine as Rusty lowered his gaze again.

"That's the last time I race with you," he sneered, as though the whole ordeal was Rusty's fault. "That's right, steam train—the rerun is for just those two." He indicated to the retreating backs of Greaseball and Electra. "The two _real_ engines," he added. "Call yourself an engine? You're no engine, Rusty!" And with a cruel laugh he skated off again, spraying Rusty with dust as he followed Greaseball and Electra.


	2. Caught In The Act

Chapter 2 — Caught In The Act

By the time CB had caught up with his fellow conspirators, however, he could tell something was wrong. Greaseball and Electra were standing side by side with identically fallen faces, and were faced by what looked like a race official. CB hesitated, wondering if he shouldn't make good of his escape straight away, but Electra had already spotted him. Trying hard not to be seen, the electric train instantly started trying to motion for CB to leave, but the Marshal noticed Electra's movement and turned around.

"There you are," he said, unsmiling. "Come here, Caboose."

CB hesitantly made his way over to the others, unsure of what to think. Was this about the race? No one but them knew what had really happened—no one but Pearl, and she wouldn't dare tell anyone—would she?

"I've just had a word with the observation car," the Marshall told him, casually giving CB a shove that sent him up against the wall between Greaseball and Electra. "She seemed to think it important that I heard an account of what really went on in today's race."

CB could feel Greaseball's clenched fists shaking at his sides in blatant fury. He swallowed painfully, debating the likelihood of what was about to happen.

"Is it true that you interfered with the race on the steam train's behalf?"

An idea struck CB. "No," he said defiantly. "I was on his team. Why would I interfere?"

"Pearl tells me that you refused to disengage your brakes at the start of the race."

"I'm a brake vehicle," CB objected in a hurt tone. "My brakes jammed. I couldn't take them off."

It seemed like the perfect excuse, but for some reason CB could tell it hadn't worked. Electra sighed and Greaseball hung his head.

"Nice try, CB," the Marshall chuckled, still not smiling. "But I've already heard the true story from our conspirators here."

CB's mouth dropped, and he turned to stare at Greaseball. Electra, maybe, couldn't be trusted—he was a new train on the scene. But CB and Greaseball had been one and the same for years, and had always been prepared to back one another up whatever the situation. How could he now have given them away?

"Since Pearl came to confess to me, she will not be included in the punishment," the Marshall began.

"But you're suspending us?" CB asked, trying to look unfazed, his mouth very dry. To his alarm, Greaseball turned away as though in shame.

"Well, the way I've heard it, CB," the Marshall continued, "you are the main culprit in this ordeal. It was, after all, your idea to sabotage the race."

"But—"

"And it was your idea to trick Rusty into partnering you."

"But I—"

"And on top of that it was in fact you that actually committed the offence. For all I know Greaseball and Electra may have played no part. And for their honesty and lack of direct participation I am excluding them from your punishment."

CB's mouth dropped open again. "I—" He began, but inspiration failed. Greaseball was still staring determinedly away, and Electra simply gazed at the ground.

"I suggest," the Marshall said at length, "Greaseball, Electra, I suggest that you return to training for the next race and think yourselves very lucky."

Greaseball immediately pushed off the wall and skated away without a backward glance. Electra glanced at CB, who stared back in a cold mix of shock and dislike. Without responding, Electra followed Greaseball away. The Marshall turned back onto CB.

"Caboose," he said seriously, "you are hereby indefinitely suspended from racing. You will be notified when—or if—this ban is lifted."

CB didn't know what to say. Nothing the Marshall was saying sounded real. Wordlessly he made to head back to the yard.

"In addition," the Marshall added to his retreating back, "you are placed on probation from your freight duties." He waited for CB to turn back to him in disbelief before adding, "Permanently."


	3. New Caboose

Chapter 3 — New Caboose

There was a sort of hush over the freight yard that evening. Partly this was because there was one less person to cause the general din that generally emanated from the area; partly it was because there was one less person to talk to. Mostly, however, it was the effect of a combined sense of shock.

No one in the freight yard chose to be very close to his companions, and it was mostly out of shock of the unanticipated events of earlier that day that kept it on their minds. None of them readily admitted actually missing CB's presence. The only one of them who might have been persuaded to show his disappointment was Dustin, and he'd already heard the reason for CB's eviction from Rusty. Although he completely supported Rusty's case, he couldn't pretend that he didn't already miss CB; none of them could. CB was a little inconsistent when it came to his loyalties, it was true, but he was still the cheerful, consoling, ever-smiling brake vehicle they all knew and, though they wouldn't admit it, loved, and it was hard to look over the freight yard and not see the flash of his crimson helmet and dazzling smile.

The oldest engine in the yard, the steam engine Papa, emerged from the garage to join Dustin where he was sitting at the edge of the yard watching Rocky and Flat Top at work. "Why so glum, Dustin?"

"I don't know," the Big Hopper said sadly. "It seems quieter around here now."

Papa nodded. "I can't see them keeping Red Caboose out for long," he confided. "Rocky's always causing trouble, and he's always been allowed home."

"Rocky's never sabotaged a race, though," Dustin replied. "That was really cruel of CB to trick Rusty like that. I wish he hadn't," he added momentarily. "If he hadn't done that, Rusty would still be able to race and CB would still be here."

"Do you think Greaseball set him up?" Flat Top asked, skating over to them. "Seems like something he might do."

"Greaseball's never done anything like that before," Papa said uncertainly.

"But Rusty was never a threat to him before," Rocky said as he approached. "Let's face it, Rusty could have won that race, especially with CB at his back. And we all know what Greaseball would do to win."

"I don't know..." Dustin said hesitantly.

"I do," Flat Top said. "It was Greaseball's idea, take my word for it."

"What about the new guy?" Rocky suggested. "Flashy Mr Electra? He could have had a say in all this. The way I see it he's just as competitive as our Greaseball."

"I don't think we have the liberties to make judgments, especially about Electra," Papa intervened sharply. "The facts are that CB made a very stupid mistake, and if he wants to come back he'll have to prove himself first."

Silence followed this for the space of a few seconds. None of them could really see CB wanting to prove himself.

Eventually Rocky ventured, "Who's taking over for him?"

"Some new engine on the scene," Flat Top said scornfully. "The Marshals brought him in earlier. Looks like a pretty flashy piece of work."

The flashy new piece of work Flat Top had seen actually turned out to be female, a young, smiling girl with shining paintwork of various shades of blue. She arrived at the freight yard later that evening, looking just as out of place as the coaches did whenever they strayed this way, despite her work-suited armour. She was like a blue, female version of CB, Dustin thought as she skated across to them: good-looking, in slightly better condition than the rest of them, and, of course, smiling broadly.

"Hiya," she said brightly as she drew to a tidy halt beside Flat Top. "Is this the freight yard?"

"Sure is," Rocky said, rising to greet her. "Are you the new brake vehicle?" Both of these questions were reasonably pointless.

"That's right," she said happily. "I'm Chalcedony, but most people call me Chalcie." She tossed her hair back and grinned at them. _Just like CB used to do_, thought Dustin.

"I'm Rocky," the Box Car introduced himself. "That's Flat Top, Dustin and Papa."

"Pleased to meet you," Chalcie said. "I say, everybody looks a bit glum here!"

"Well, we still have work to do," Flat Top said, ignoring this last comment. "C'mon, Rocky." The pair of them headed back towards the opposite edge of the yard. Dustin stood up and quickly followed them, leaving the new engine with Papa, who smiled at her.

"I'm sure you'll fit in fine," he said with a shrug.


	4. Repercussions

Chapter 4 — Repercussions

Electra coasted along the track on his way to the training arena, the day following their narrow escape from trouble with the Marshals. On the way he passed Dinah, who was hurrying in the opposite direction. She spotted him as he passed.

"What's going on?" she asked before he could duck out of sight. "Pearl said you were going to be suspended for sabotage!"

"No," Electra said coolly. "Didn't you hear? CB sabotaged the race, not me."

"CB?" Dinah repeated, shocked. "Why would he do such a thing?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Electra said. "He's a treacherous rat. He's suspended from racing and from his duties."

Dinah's eyes were wide with surprise. "I can hardly believe it," she said, sitting down. "That doesn't sound at all like CB!"

"Come on," Electra said casually. "CB doesn't have a clue where his loyalties lie. That's why he turned back on Rusty."

Dinah's eyes suddenly narrowed. "So you had nothing to do with it?"

Electra quickly arranged his face to look shocked at the very suggestion. "What makes you think that?"

"It just seems a bit suspicious," she said slowly, "that you're in competition with Rusty, and CB just happens to want to take him out. He's never had reason to dislike Rusty before. They were always good friends."

"Oh, please," Electra said casually. "I don't have time for this, Dinah. I have training to do. Maybe Rusty'll have better luck now that treacherous brake vehicle is out of the way. If he can find another partner, that is."

With a none-to-friendly smile, Electra turned his back and continued on his way. As she watched him leave, Dinah couldn't help still feeling suspicious.

The metal supporting beams of the training track rattled loudly as Greaseball shot across them, rounding the corner so fast even he thought he might derail himself. He ducked beneath the overhanging branches of the trees growing nearby and leapt from the track, landing smoothly on the ground beside Pearl, who had been watching him.

"So?" she said expectantly. Greaseball turned away, coasting leisurely away; Pearl followed. "So?" she repeated.

"So what?" Greaseball replied.

"Have they disqualified you?" she asked coldly. "For what you did to Rusty?"

Greaseball laughed. "Don't be stupid, Pearl. Why would they disqualify me for something CB did?"

Pearl gasped. "You didn't—!" she cried. "You didn't tell them it was CB's idea, did you?"

"It was!" Greaseball insisted.

"You were with him!" Pearl exclaimed. "You were just as much to blame as he was. And you just walked away and let him take your punishment!"

"It was his punishment," Greaseball growled, speeding up.

"How could you, Greaseball!" Pearl insisted, picking up speed alongside him. "CB's your friend!"

"Stay out of this, Pearl," Greaseball barked. "If CB was stupid enough to get caught, that's his problem." He tried to make an escape, but Pearl skidded around in front of him, blocking his way.

"You're low, Greaseball," she said fiercely. "You were just as much to blame as he was. You were caught, too, and you were just too much of a coward to take it like a man, so you ditched it onto CB instead! I can't believe you. It's bad enough that you'd cheat to get out of having to face Rusty like a real competitor, but then ducking out of the consequences like a coward—!"

"Shut up, Pearl!" shouted Greaseball, and without thinking his hand shot out and he struck the observation car hard around the face. Caught off guard, Pearl was spun off her wheels and cast to the ground. Greaseball was far too fired up to realise that he'd made a mistake; he skated back over to her to stand over her. "CB got what was coming to him," he yelled, "and if you ever dare call me a coward again they'll be worse to come, hear me?"

Pearl was shaking too hard to think to answer him, one hand held over her face, partly for fear of being struck again, partly to shield the tears streaming from her eyes. Greaseball spun on his wheels and stormed away back towards the training track.

Once she was sure he'd gone, Pearl slowly sat up again, one hand over her throbbing cheek, wiping tears from her swollen eyes. She hardly knew what to think. Eventually she picked herself up and shakily made her way across to where she hoped she would find Buffy and Ashley, though what she would say when they saw her in such a state, she didn't know.


	5. There's Me

Chapter 5 — There's Me

A rhythmic, metallic clanging sound echoed from the back of the Engineer's Workshop. CB absently kicked his heels against the metal wall, lying on his back on the low roof with his feet overhanging, regardless of much of the world around him. He was well and truly miserable. Years of being the ever-smiling, ever-helpful Red Caboose that everyone knew him as had made him forget what it was like to be miserable. Now, however, he couldn't forget even if he wanted to.

It wasn't just his exclusion that got to him. It was also that he was banned from the freight yard, the place that had for so long been almost his home. That, and Greaseball. He was still angry with his so-called ally for betraying him. Electra, too, but Greaseball was the one he was most annoyed at. After all they'd done together, after everything they'd done for each other, he'd come right out and betrayed him. CB wasn't a hateful person, but he'd never been so angry with someone.

"CB?"

The brake vehicle shut his eyes tightly. He didn't want to see anyone right now. He wanted to be left alone. But he had a horrible suspicion that he knew the voice that had just called his name.

"CB? Are you there?"

_No_, he wanted to reply. He recognised the voice now: it was Dinah. He wanted to see her least of all. He could face anyone right now, even Greaseball, but not Dinah. He couldn't stand to let her see him in this condition.

"Don't move, CB, I'm coming up."

CB considered hiding, but now he realised that it wasn't actually Dinah's voice calling his name. He sat up, frowning in puzzlement. Sure enough, it wasn't Dinah's face that appeared at the edge of the rooftop—it was Chalcie.

CB realised he'd been wrong. There was someone he wanted to see even less than Dinah, and it was her.

"Are you okay, CB?"

CB didn't answer. He drew his legs up from the edge of the roof and turned away from her.

Chalcie didn't push her luck. She didn't know CB very well (they'd met once, a long time ago) and she knew well enough not to impose on his solitude, least of all now. She sat down on the roof edge, still some distance away.

"Dinah's looking for you," she said. "I think she's worried about you."

"Go away, Chalcedony," CB said without turning around. It wasn't an order he'd ever given before and it sounded strange, even to him.

"I spoke to Greaseball earlier," Chalcie continued. "Well, not spoke to, as such. He's training for the race."

"Good for him," CB said flatly.

Chalcie hesitated, tracing patterns in the dust. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

CB drew his knees up to his chest, maintaining his silence for as long as he dared. "What about?" he asked eventually, without turning.

"What do you think?" Chalcie asked with a summery laugh. Her words didn't have the desired effect, and she cleared her throat. "About owning up," she said. "About telling the truth about what happened yesterday."

There was a long silence. Then, finally, CB turned around.

"What good'll that do?" he said. Although he was angry and he'd meant for it to come across, his voice still sounded heavy with melancholy.

Chalcie shrugged. "Maybe I can persuade him to help the Marshal forgive you."

"He won't," CB mumbled. "Greaseball, I mean."

"I think he will," Chalcie reasoned. She paused, then added, "He is your friend, after all."

Something in CB's face changed at this point. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. There was silence for some time as the two brake vehicles simply gazed at one another.

"Go away, Chalcedony," CB said again. His tone of voice had changed; he was much quieter now, and without aggression. Chalcie took this to be more of a request than an order. She decided it best to respect his wishes, and stood up.

She had jumped back down onto the step at the side of the workshop when she heard CB's voice again. "Would you?"

Chalcie smiled without looking back up. "Of course."

Silence. She assumed that this meant 'yes'. Shrugging, she turned and skated quietly away.

"Crikey, Pearl!"

This was the greeting Pearl had expected when Buffy spotted her returning. She didn't have the chance to speak before she'd been seized and hauled over to sit down to let Buffy and Ashley examine her anxiously.

"What happened, Pearl?" Buffy asked.

"Nothing," Pearl lied. "I just...I slipped from the rails and fell."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ashley asked anxiously. "You look like you've been crying...!"

"I...I had an argument with Greaseball," Pearl admitted eventually. "He was just a bit angry, that's all."

"Why? Why was he angry with you?" asked Buffy.

"He wasn't. I just...oh, it doesn't matter, Buffy. It'll be okay."

"I don't know, Pearl. You look like you've been beaten up. Look, just take it easy and I'll..."

"Hey," Ashley interrupted, standing up, "is that Dinah?"

Pearl and Buffy jumped up as well. Sure enough, in the distance, it looked like Dinah was skating their way, followed by the unmistakable shape of Electra.

"What's going on, do you think?" Buffy asked curiously.


	6. Disconnected

Chapter 6 — Disconnected

Electra hastened to keep up with the Dining Car. "Dinah! Come back here!"

Dinah finally stopped. "Cut that out, Electra," she snapped, her face pink from speed and emotion. "You heard me. I won't do it."

"But why?" Electra cried incredulously. "You can't just decide to leave without any reason!"

"Because I'm fed up with all this racing," Dinah replied hotly, her voice rising. "All this chasing one another around and competition. I'm sick of it. And to tell you the truth, Electra, I'm sick of you, too. Find yourself another racing partner. You're disconnected!"

Turning on her heels Dinah stormed off in the direction of the other carriages, leaving Electra feeling somewhat overwhelmed. He hadn't particularly enjoyed racing with Dinah, either, and in all honesty he was glad to be rid of her constant high-pitched complaining, but now, all of a sudden, he was without a racing partner. He absently skated around in circles for a few seconds, mind racing—who could he persuade to partner him at this short notice? The race was tomorrow morning, and he couldn't race alone!

"CB," he suddenly thought, and tore off in the direction of the freight yard.

He was halfway there when he suddenly remembered that CB wasn't racing anymore.

"Damn it," he muttered, resuming his circular wandering. Almost everyone else knew already that he was somehow involved in CB's affair yesterday, and he knew that half of them would refuse to race with him simply on that basis. His wheels sparked as he skidded around again, fuming. Two days ago almost the entire race team would have been dying to race with him. He could try one of his maintenance team, but none of them were racers. There had to be someone who would agree to partner him.

Well, if CB wasn't available, then surely his replacement would be just as good. Lost for a better idea, he started off towards the freight yard again.

"No," Chalcie said. "Absolutely not. No."

"Why not?" Electra steamed, half annoyed, half desperate.

"Sorry, Electra, but I don't race," Chalcie said, continuing to help Rocky clear up. Electra followed her across the yard.

"All I need is a partner," he said. "I'm bound to win, trust me. I just need a partner and we'll be champions."

"Sorry," Chalcie said in her summery voice. "No."

Electra had to fight to prevent himself hitting something in frustration. "Thanks for nothing, then," he muttered, turning on his heels.

"You're welcome," Chalcie replied with a sly smile. Electra ignored her, already some distance away.

At full speed he raced back to where he'd left Dinah, half wondering if he could persuade her to return. When he arrived, however, Dinah wasn't there—but Pearl was.

Electra glanced automatically around. Maybe if Greaseball wasn't around, he could persuade Pearl to switch partners. It was a risky plan, to steal the reigning champion's racing partner, but he was getting desperate, and the worst that could happen was that Pearl could refuse. Straightening his helmet, Electra coolly coasted over to her.

"Hi, Pearl," he called as he approached.

Pearl looked up, then instantly wished she hadn't. Electra pulled up beside her.

"What happened to you?" he asked, his voice somewhere between curiosity and surprise.

"I fell," Pearl mumbled. Electra didn't press for details. Instead he sat down beside her, running his wheels back and forth over the ground. Pearl could tell he had something to say, or else he wouldn't be there.

"Pearl, how would you like to race with me tomorrow?" Politeness wasn't a tactic Electra used much but he wasn't sure how else to persuade her. Pearl didn't say anything for a while.

"Dinah..." she began.

"Don't worry about her," Electra said quickly. "She's on her own. What do you say?"

"Electra...I'm supposed to be racing with Greaseball..." Pearl said slowly. _Heavens knows, I don't want to_, she thought, but she wasn't sure if it was right to just abandon him.

"Don't worry about him," Electra said. "After all, do you really want to help him after what he did to Rusty?"

Pearl suddenly remembered. "You were in on that, too!" she cried.

"That's not actually true," Electra said, trying hard to remain calm and unthreatening. "It was CB's idea, and Greaseball agreed. What could I do to stop them? I didn't want them to gang up on me, too."

"You could have stood up for Rusty," Pearl said, but she sounded uncertain. Maybe Electra hadn't been involved—she had no proof, after all. And at least if she raced with him, she wouldn't be racing with Greaseball...

"Well...okay then," she said eventually. "Okay, Electra. I'll race with you."


	7. Resolutions

Chapter 7 — Resolution

Greaseball tore down from the training track as fast as his diesel engine could manage. He was halfway to the freight yard when exactly the same thought struck him as had Electra yesterday afternoon.

"Oh, right," he mused. "CB's not racing."

He sat down, kicking his heels against the ground as he thought hard. Pearl was with Electra—there was nothing he could do about that and nothing he wanted to do about that. But he needed another partner, pronto. He'd tried the other coaches—no luck. He'd tried his maintenance team—not interested. He'd even approached a few members of Electra's maintenance team—that turned out to be a mistake. CB was his last chance, but there was no way that would work.

"Chalcie," he suddenly thought, and leapt up.

"No," Chalcie told him firmly.

"_Please!_" cried Greaseball, following her despite her efforts to move away.

"Listen, Greaseball, if you want to race with CB then you'll have to apologise to him. Apologise to the Marshal. Own up."

Greaseball shot a look around, glad that no one had overheard this. He was too anxious by this time to challenge how she knew that he had been involved. "I can't!" he hissed. "If they knew I was in on the whole thing then I'd be suspended, as well! I'm looking for one _more_ racer, not one less!"

"Well you'll be racing alone then," Chalcie said cheerfully.

"Why won't you race?" Greaseball begged.

"Because I don't race," Chalcie said, "and because I think you're a selfish bastard."

"Oh, thanks," Greaseball snapped.

"Well if you weren't, you'd go apologise to CB right now."

"I can't!" Greaseball insisted through gritted teeth. "This is my entire life we're talking about here! My reputation! My career!"

"But not your friend?" Chalcie said pointedly.

"CB's never done anything for me," Greaseball fumed.

"He's never betrayed you," Chalcie said.

"What would you know?" snapped Greaseball.

"I know that your friend has been suspended for something you did, and that you're too much of a coward to make amends."

Greaseball froze, staring at her. "What did you call me?"

Chalcie turned around, stared coolly back and repeated, "A coward."

Shaking with fury, Greaseball took a moment to prevent himself shouting. Then he turned sharply on his heels. "I'll show you coward," he muttered furiously, and stormed away from Chalcie in the direction of the Engineer's Workshop.

Without turning, Chalcie smiled to herself.

Greaseball skated at full speed all the way to the Workshop before he fully realised what he was planning to do. It was too late to go back now. If he went back, he'd be a coward—but if he went on, he'd be disqualified. He continued in the same direction, much slower, contemplating his options. Disqualification, cowardice. Disqualification, cowardice. Disqualification, cowardice. A cowardly champion, or a disqualified do-gooder. A weak, spineless hero—or a friend.

"CB!"

Greaseball raced to the Workshop so fast that he nearly ran straight into it.

"CB! CB, where are you?"

There was silence for a few seconds, then CB's face appeared from the roof above him.

"Greaseball?"

"Come down, CB!"

CB disappeared again. "Go away."

Greaseball ignored him. He skated around to the side of the Workshop and mounted the steps to look over the wall. CB was lying on the roof again, hands behind head, eyes shut. Greaseball hauled himself onto the roof and edged over to him.

"CB."

CB didn't answer. He kept his eyes shut.

Greaseball sat down beside him, silent for a moment more. "Look, CB—" he began, but inspiration failed. He sat silently for another few seconds. "CB, I wanted to...I just wanted to say...To say that..."

CB didn't respond to his broken dialogue, but despite his closed eyes, he was listening carefully.

"Look, CB...the thing is..." Greaseball shrugged, touching CB's shoulder. "We're going to be late for the race."

Surprised, CB opened his eyes. Greaseball was smiling.

"You mean _you're_ going to be late for the race," CB said uncertainly.

"Well there wouldn't be a lot of point in me going alone," Greaseball said, "unless I wanted to watch."

"I thought Pearl—"

"Uncoupled me," Greaseball said with a weary smile. "She ditched me for that flashy electric engine."

CB couldn't work out where this was going. He sat up, watching Greaseball closely. Greaseball lowered his gaze, tapping his fingers against the rooftop.

"Maybe if we go to the racetrack," he said slowly, "we can find one of the Marshals. Have a word with them. About...about the other day. I thought...maybe we needed to have a chat with them."

CB wasn't sure whether to believe what he was hearing. A moment ago he'd hated Greaseball—but his wheels were jamming up from lack of use, his armour was grubby and had lost it's shine, and he felt somehow deflated from not smiling for three days; by now he was almost willing to believe anything.

"I think the Marshals will be around the track," Greaseball added, "after the race, if you want to help me find them on the finish line."

CB had been waiting for the word that Greaseball was carefully avoiding, but he decided that it was pointless to sit and wait all day. Too fed up and desperate to want to believe otherwise, he decided for himself what Greaseball was implying, and his face split into a wide smile.

"Race you there!"


	8. The Race

Chapter 8 — The Race

Greaseball leapt down from the Workshop roof and CB followed, coupling onto him as soon as his wheels hit the ground. All at once they were off, speeding across the yard towards the main racetrack, which they could hear was already packed with spectators. Over the sound of the cheering fans, Greaseball could hear the voice of Control, for the first time sounding somewhat panicked.

"...Control—Control—Last call for engines entering the heat final! Rusty and Dustin are already on the line, but we have yet to hear from Greaseball or Electra! There'll be a lot of disappointed fans if they don't turn up soon..." It sounded distinctly as though Control would be among the disappointed fans.

"Hold tight," called Greaseball, and he deftly launched off the ground to leap over the safety barrier at the edge of the track, skidding to a halt at the steam train's side.

"You!" Rusty cried, staring at the brake vehicle. "What are you doing here?"

CB grinned, and was about to reply, when Greaseball suddenly cried, "Duck!" CB did so without thinking, and realised what it was that Greaseball had spotted—the Marshals patrolling the arena. If they spotted CB now, they'd both be disqualified from the race. If they could stay out of sight until the race began, they'd be okay—the Marshals couldn't stop them once the safety barriers were raised. But Control wouldn't start the race without Electra—and there was no sign of him anywhere.

"Where is that darned electric train?" Greaseball groaned. He was uncomfortably aware that it was only a matter of time before his race partner was identified—there weren't many who wouldn't recognise the Red Caboose from a long distance.

Then, finally—

"And here comes Electra!" Control's voice cried happily, and the spectators roared in approval. CB leaned around Greaseball to watch the electric engine approaching, and to his surprise he saw that Electra was being closely followed by two Marshals. His eyes widened—not only was Electra being chased, but on their other side, the Marshal had spotted them, too.

"Hey—wait!" the Marshal shouted, struggling through the crowd towards them. "Stop!" he shouted, "Don't start the race!"

But Electra had already cleared the fence and hit the track on Rusty's other side, Pearl holding tight behind him, and Control immediately began to raise the safety barriers, blocking the Marshal's route. Sirens blazed from all around—it would be suicide for anyone to try to enter the track now.

"Pearl—" Rusty began, highly confused. But he didn't have time to argue—the countdown had already begun.

"Ten!...Nine!...Eight!..."

CB leaned in to Greaseball. "We're done for as soon as the race ends."

"Six!...Five!...Four!..."

"As long as we're done for in first place," Greaseball hissed back, "I couldn't care less."

"Three...Two...One...TRAINS GONE!"

The six trains skidded off, showering the crowd behind them with dust and dirt. Through the rising dust clouds Greaseball could see that Electra had taken the lead, Pearl clinging desperately to him as though terrified she'd be shaken off. Greaseball fired his engine to as fast as he could go, and felt CB do the same; together they shot around the corner and overtook the electric engine.

CB dared to turn back to watch Electra fall behind, but as soon as he'd vanished behind the corner Rusty took his place, somehow increasing speed even with the great bulk of the Big Hopper at his back.

"Step on it, Greaseball!" CB cried over the noise of engines, and a moment later Rusty and Dustin had streaked in front of them. Greaseball was tempted to ram into them but he didn't have the chance, because at that moment Electra slammed into CB from behind. CB stumbled into Greaseball, who nearly lost his footing on the track; he quickly regained his balance, ensuring that CB was still tightly at his back, and took off again after Rusty.

The engines were already nearing the end of their first lap, Rusty in the lead, followed closely by Greaseball and Electra. The sound of the crowd and the engines was deafening in Pearl's ears as they shot over the line; she'd almost lost her hold on Electra when he'd hit CB, and was terrified that she'd let go completely. She'd shouted to the electric train to stop doing what he was blatantly intending to do again, but her cries went unheard; Electra put on another burst of speed and came up beside Greaseball, clashing his wheels against CB's. The brake vehicle tightened his grip on Greaseball and swung back at him, knocking the electric train off balance; taking his chance Greaseball streaked on after Rusty, skidding in front of the steam engine and almost completely cutting him up. Rusty swerved violently to prevent a collision, almost shaking Dustin off, and fell dramatically behind, allowing Electra to tear past him.

Electra was fast catching up with Greaseball and CB, and Pearl could see that he wasn't intending to pass them, but was heading straight for CB again.

"Electra, don't!" she yelled. Electra ignored her, picking up speed; CB had noticed him by this time, and was shouting to warn Greaseball. "Electra—" shrieked Pearl, but the electric engine had already smashed into CB again. Greaseball braced himself and was still almost jolted off his wheels. CB glanced back, tempted to brake suddenly to derail Electra completely, but was distracted by the screaming of the spectators as he and Greaseball shot over the line to complete their second lap.

Pearl was almost beside herself with hysteria. "Stop it, Electra!" she screamed. Electra's frustration was rising and now he snapped; approaching the sharp turn he suddenly accelerated, swinging around the corner at full speed; the observation car gave a yell of terror as she was thrown off the electric train—straight into Rusty's arms. The steam train seized Pearl and pushed her back into the right direction, both he and Dustin tearing along the track behind Electra and slowly catching up. Electra had hoped that somehow loosing Pearl might increase his speed, but it had made no difference, and he gave a shout of fury as Rusty, Pearl and Dustin streaked in front of him.

Greaseball had lost track of his speed; all he was aware of now was the fact that he was ahead and that the finish line wasn't far away. He'd forgotten Electra, he'd forgotten Rusty—he'd have forgotten CB if he hadn't been clinging tightly to his back. Together the engines approached the final corner; Greaseball glanced back to see Rusty not far behind, but not close enough to reach him.

All of a sudden, CB gave a yell of alarm, and Greaseball realised with a jolt of shock that he was going far too fast. Right up ahead the track twisted tightly around to the finish line, creating a sharp corner that was getting closer and closer. Greaseball's mind raced in the split second he had to make a decision—alone he'd be able to take the corner, but if he didn't slow down CB would be thrown off, derailed, and would crash, and at this speed a collision would be fatal. The brake vehicle shut his eyes tightly, bracing himself in anticipation for the crash—

—But it never came. At the last moment Greaseball slammed on the brakes.

CB was so alarmed that he ran straight into Greaseball. The momentum sent the diesel engine straight around the corner, both he and CB remaining safely on the track, but the sudden decrease in speed was enough to allow Rusty, Pearl and Dustin to streak in front of them. Before Greaseball had had time to fully register this, both he and CB were thrown forward as Electra, still moving at top speed, slammed into them from behind; all three engines derailed instantly and were thrown across the finish line.

The stands had already exploded with cheering. Control's voice was echoing above it all, but no one could make out the words over the screams of the crowd. The race was over—the final was finished, and the overall winner was the Steam Engine.

Rusty came to a steady halt, eyes wide, barely able to comprehend what had just happened to him. For a few seconds he stood staring blankly at the cheering crowd, his mind still racing.

"Pearl," he whispered suddenly. He spun around to find her, and found himself face to face with the Race Marshal.

"Good race, Rusty!" he cried enthusiastically. "Congratulations—you earned that victory."

"Thanks," Rusty said breathlessly, unsure of what to expect. The Marshal wouldn't approach him simply to congratulate him—what was this about?

"I wanted to ensure everything was straightened out after that misunderstanding a few days ago," the Marshal said.

Rusty frowned. "Misunderstanding?"

"You know, with CB and Greaseball," the Marshal continued. "Nearly landed all three of you in serious trouble! It's a good thing young Electra came out and confessed."

Rusty stared at him, even more confused. "Electra?"

"I must say," the Marshal ignored Rusty's puzzled expression, "it was brave of him to come and admit that the whole thing had been his fault. I do feel quite sorry for poor CB, being evicted just because he was too scared to disobey Electra. It was a bit bold of him to enter the race with Greaseball, but it's a good thing Electra cleared his name before he could get into any more trouble!"

Rusty didn't know what to say. Electra confessed? CB following orders? What was this all about? But the Marshal had already patted his shoulder cheerfully and turned his back. Confused, the truth slowly dawning on him, Rusty turned on his wheels again to where Greaseball, Electra and CB were still lying in a tangled heap of steaming, smoking metal and wheels just beyond the finish line. Rusty had to clamp a hand over his mouth to prevent himself laughing out loud.

"Owww..." Greaseball sat up, pushing his headband out of his eyes, and shoved CB off of him; CB overbalanced and toppled into Electra. Electra furiously shoved CB back again, springing to his feet.

"Clear my track!" the electric train yelled, his voice high and ringing with rage. At the edge of the track his maintenance team were already struggling to reach him through the crowd; Electra pushed Greaseball out of his way and began to fire up his battered engine. "Clear my track!" he shouted again, and, without pausing to let his maintenance team catch up, he prepared to set off towards the arena exit.

Shoving his helmet back out of his eyes, CB pushed himself up onto his hands and stretched one foot out directly in front of Electra's wheels.

Electra had barely moved before his wheels caught, tripping him and almost sending him crashing down again; he made a swift attempt to stay on his wheels and staggered forward, eventually stumbling and colliding with Rusty, bringing electric and steam train both back to the ground again. Electra furiously tried to gain his feet again, but couldn't manage it without catching the Steam Engine's eye.

"Electra?" Rusty sat up again quickly. "What's going on?"

Electra seemed to guess what was going on. He maintained the furious look he'd adopted after loosing the race as he leaned over to Rusty to whisper to him:

"No point leaving CB to suffer here when I'm off anyway."

And, casting a smile at Rusty that was so brief that he could have imagined it, Electra leapt up again and, with another shout of "Clear my track!" started off again at full speed, his maintenance team on his heels. "Stand by to fade me! No comeback!" Rusty could hear his voice long after he and his electric team had vanished from sight.

CB grinned as he watched Electra make his retreat, then realised that Greaseball was standing over him, holding out his hand. The brake vehicle took his hand and let Greaseball haul him back onto his wheels. The diesel engine looked as though he'd just come away from a significant crash, but beneath his tousled hair and cracked helmet he was grinning broadly.

"That saw the back of that flashy battery pack," he sniggered. "I doubt we'll be seeing much of him again."

CB wasn't smiling. "You braked," he said.

Greaseball hesitated. "Say again?"

"You braked," CB repeated. "When you could have carried on and won the race."

Greaseball rolled his eyes, feeling uncomfortably balanced between frustration and embarrassment. Eventually he took CB's arm and led him away from the crowd.

"Of course I did," he whispered. "If I wanted to flatten you against the arena wall I wouldn't have asked you to partner me in the race. I would have done it myself a long time ago."

CB assumed that this was about as close to sentiment as Greaseball was likely to get. He decided not to push his luck.

"Thanks," he said, smiling.


End file.
